


Jupiter's Storm

by Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Strangulation, Violence, contains smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew/pseuds/Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titus did not need to love his brother to stare at the vast, empty beauty that Balem was.</p><p>Those eyes, up close visibly burning with Jupiter’s Storm, fixed on his, not letting him escape, sharing the madness as the nebulas merged, the end of one gas cloud and the beginning of the other no longer distinguishable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jupiter's Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vivian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/gifts).



> I watched Jupiter Ascending last night, and, well, I already had years of Eddie Redmayne-obsession behind me, so this was sort of inevitable. Also, I kind of needed more of Balem forcing others, anyone, to their knees with that soft voice. Ah well. I'll always have fanfiction. Like [this gem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604268), the piece that inspired my little oneshot. Read it. It's a masterpiece.

Titus felt no love for his brother. He did not feel love for his sister. The only one he had ever felt a smidgeon of love for was his mother, and she was dead.

Titus did not feel love for space either, but it never stopped him from gazing out the windows. Windows that reached high up into the ceiling, windows that revealed the universe that lay at their feet. With a view like that, it was impossible not to stare. One did not need love for that.

With his mother gone, Titus felt no love at all anymore. It was a cold existence, but not a bad one. Not that bad, anyway. And vital for the Abrasax heirs, vital for the existence of their heirloom.

No. There were definitely fates worse than an existence without love.

His brother, for instance.

His sister, Kalique, was cold, but she still found her joy, or a pale dream of it anyway, in beauty. She loved herself, her brothers, for their looks. She loved space. All in her own cold way.

Balem however… Balem felt nothing.

Balem was as empty and dead as his mangled voice. There was nothing to him. Where Kalique was a rose-coloured nebula littered with stars, Balem was the Void.

Titus did not know what he was himself. A gaseous cloud, perhaps, like his sister but… emptier.

The three of them weren’t gods. They weren’t immortal. The comparison to space nevertheless seemed apt. For despite the fact that their lives would, one day, end, alive was not how they felt.

The siblings felt eternal.

Barely moving throughout time, only ever so slowly churning around themselves, glittering to distant observers but vast blackness with the occasional little light to those who observed from up close. They were swirling nebulas, only remaining human in their genes, but never in their being. They were vast, ancient, single beings, separate from everything else, only having each other close, yet never to touch one another, in fear of fading into each other and losing sight of where one ended and the other began. They were meant to be separate, their eternal fighting and competition boosting their company.

They weren’t gods, but they came close enough.

In recent unfoldings of time, things had begun to change. The death of their mother had stirred the gas clouds. Kalique had become more feverish about her youth and beauty with that reminder of looming mortality. Titus had become more feverish about the company.

Balem… Balem felt nothing. He seemed as bored and unperturbed as ever.

If Titus had perhaps looked closer earlier, he might have seen what was lying behind those eyes in time.

Although, perhaps not. It would never have been in time. Fate was inevitable.

Sadly, despite seeming a nebula, he was still only a man, bound by flaws and the limits of the flesh. It was easy to look upon Balem from a distance. It was a distance Balem himself created. When one looked at a nebula from too close a distance, one could see each individual star and planet. When one looked at a nebula from afar, it became invisible in the black of the Void.

 _That_  was Balem. A nebula churning over itself, seen from such a distance that all one could see seemed to be emptiness.

But how could Titus know? He was as far away as every other.

Then Jupiter had come.

Titus hated her. He hated how she involuntarily reminded him of his mother, another vast near-god that had been his everything for most of his life. This tiny being walked in, and was easily convinced that she was just like Seraphi.

She was _nothing_ like her.

Jupiter was an ant, who had been told she could be an elephant if she wanted to. It was no miracle that all three Abrasax wanted her dead, all trying in their own ways.

Balem seemed struck hardest by her appearance. Titus could see it, even over the light-years of distance the older brother held between them. At that moment, he didn’t understand why, of course. But later he learned. He learned of the terror that had to have been in his brother’s mind upon seeing the woman he had murdered with his bare hands. His mother.

Then for the appearance to turn out to be nothing but an ant.

Jupiter was gone now, back to her own little planet. Earth wasn’t worth their trouble anyway.

Balem had survived his fall, naturally. The Abrasax endured. They always would. However, it had… affected him. Not changed, perhaps, not quite. But in Balem’s mind, the woman he had murdered, had now in turn tried to take his life.

The storm of madness that had always been stirring behind his eyes, was swirling like Jupiter’s Red Eye now, finally visible from across all those light-years. Perhaps because the distance was closing. The nebula up close. Balem’s brittle defences holding everything away were crumbling in that storm. Balem himself was crumbling.

The siblings never touched. But as their anger surged, as they had to rebuild so much, they buried themselves in human decadence. Kalique would hide away in her palace and bathe in platinum-flaked Nectar, her skin shimmering. Titus was hardly ever alone in his room, always the face of some Splice buried in his lap. And Balem…

Balem intruded.

Whenever Titus had a Splice in his lap, he could count on Balem being there. He didn’t know how the other always knew when he had company, but it was not important. For they would lock eyes every time, at the height of Titus’ pleasure. And it was always that eye contact that hurled Titus over the edge of space itself. Nothing more than a grunt would ever spill from his lips. And Balem, always so silent – the corner of his mouth would curl up just the slightest, barely noticeable. The stoic brother that never smiled, would smirk just the slightest at the sight of his younger sibling coming. It was almost enough for Titus to come again. Titus, who couldn't help but stare back. He did not need to love his brother to stare at the vast, empty beauty that Balem was.

Part of Titus knew what most of Kalique knew and Balem would never admit, unclear whether he knew it or not – they were doomed. Had been from the very beginning. They were almost-gods who would not meddle with their subjects. They were alone and only had each other. No matter how well they knew they should never touch, it had always been inevitable for them to gravitate towards each other, headed for collision and destruction – self- or otherwise. Kalique had separated herself from her male siblings to waste away on her own, trying to remain glorious for as long as she could. Titus and Balem didn’t think of that luxury. The gravity between the two brothers was too strong. They were doomed.

Titus remembered how strong the hate had been between them as children. He remembered Balem throwing him out of his bedroom whenever the younger boy came snooping, dragging him by his hair. He remembered stubbornly keeping his hair long.

He remembered how Balem’s fingers would always skim surfaces of glass, wood, or even skin with feather-light touches, always absentmindedly stroking his own throat, until it got ripped out. How those fingers then became slightly obsessed with other throats to wrap around. Titus remembered hating those fingers, shivering each time he saw them crawling over surfaces, figure-skating, finger-painting. Disgusted fascination the only thing keeping his gaze fixed on them.

He remembered how those fingers one day started wrapping themselves around Balem’s cock, right in front of Titus, while he once again had one of those Splices in his lap. Balem’s cold yet stormy eyes fixed on him, Titus’ eyes fixed on those fingers, those fingers he would always feel a disgusted fascination for.

And he remembered how Balem would come without a sound, his lips barely parting to let a sigh escape that no-one would ever hear, a sigh absorbed by the Void.

He remembered how, from that moment, it wasn’t just because he felt that gaze on him that he came, but because what he saw  _in_  that gaze. Balem never made a sound. His gaze said it all.  _Come for me._  And Titus would come.

He remembered all of it as he lay on his bed now.

The quirk of that beautiful, distant mouth pressed against the corner of his own.

Those fingers, slender and freckled and still so disgustingly fascinating, wrapped around Titus’ throat, only a present pressure, never cutting off his airway – not yet anyway – with one hand, the other hand tangled in Titus’ hair.

Those eyes, up close visibly burning with Jupiter’s Storm, fixed on his, not letting him escape, sharing the madness as the nebulas merged, the end of one gas cloud and the beginning of the other no longer distinguishable.

Those lips parted ever so slightly, but no sound ever coming out, all sounds in the room being Titus’ short gasps and the slapping of skin on skin as Balem thrust into him.

They were doomed from the start.

As they came together, condensed, they would collapse under their own weight, die out one day, bringing the universe down with them. Or the family heirloom at the very least.

Fingers started squeezing, spots appearing on Titus’ retina as his breathing became ragged, until it was cut off completely.

Perhaps Balem had always known wholly about the doom they were hurtling towards, where his siblings had wanted to deny. Perhaps that knowledge was the origin of the Storm.

As Balem spilled his seed deep inside his brother, Titus knew. Could finally see. Balem would be the final, vast nebula to remain. When all the lights in the universe had faded, he would be the last one left, swirling around himself in the empty Void, until he too died out. For that he would destroy anything and everything that could drag him down. Kalique had seen it coming, had fled to where she would not be a threat for her brother. He would come for her nevertheless, whether it was now or in a distant future. He would destroy everything in his surroundings, anything that could touch him as his defences crumbled. When all the lights in the universe had died out and Balem would be the last one left, it would be because he was the reason they had died out. His rage was as massive as Jupiter’s Storm, large enough to swallow planets.

This Vision, the Vision that finally Enlightened Titus, was what hurled him over the edge this time. This final time.

Balem pulled out and wiped himself off. There was no ceremony for dead stars. No-one would ever say goodbye to one. As their light died, so did the memory of them.

There had never been love between the siblings. Only gravity. The fierce electricity of the Storm. It would consume everything in its path, until Balem was the last left standing.

 

_~End~_

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write Supernatural fics. This might be a one-off little piece of work. It might also not be. I don't know. I just hope you liked it :)


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